


Wild Thing, You Make My Heart Sing

by MagicalStranger13



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M, NSFW, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-10-08 16:03:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10390485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalStranger13/pseuds/MagicalStranger13
Summary: Picking up several months after the events of 'Wild Thing, I Think I Love You', with the first day of Spring (and the return of the fairies) less than a few hours away, when Griselda makes a serious discovery what will the poor Bog King do?  Especially when a certain fairy princess will be on the hunt for him in the full swing of her own Heat: the Spring Fever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, at long last, here it is: the sequel to 'Wild Thing, I Think I Love You'. I just hope it measures up in its own way. I'm betting on 4 chapters in this one instead of 3, we'll have to see how it pans out.  
> Anyway, hope you guys enjoy. I know you've been waiting a long time. :)

It was Griselda's favorite kind of day.

The earth was just waking up to Spring, so things were still rather peaceful and quiet.  True sunlight was peeking through the clouds again, but keeping its blistering heat well at bay.  The air smelled fresh and clean.  Trees were dotted with green buds, soft patches of new grass were sprouting in place of the crunchy snow, and what few species of warm-weather flowers the Dark Forest housed were a mere week or two away from colorfully blooming in full.

But the gobliness was on the hunt for the last of some late- _Winter_ plants.  She'd traveled a half-day's journey away from the new castle to an area of the forest that was always rich with seasonal vegetation.  On her arm, she carried a large basket that she was filling with her various findings of witch hazel, sweet violets, wisteria, honeysuckle, and daffodils.

As a farmer's daughter and former queen, she had to stay busy, else she'd go stir _crazy_.  Whether it was redecorating a room, helping out at the infirmary, sewing, or crafting, she just liked having something to focus on and do with her hands.

If only Bog had inherited such an active instinct from her, but no, he was too much like his father in that regard: sitting in frowning silence and letting his mind brood about whatever was troubling him.

And he had unquestionably been troubled lately; for three straight months, to be exact, and boy, was it ever obvious...

His wistful staring out the window at the southern horizon.  His noncommittal grunts in place of verbal answers, his soft, random sighs.  Honestly, the boy was so gone over that girl.

It was _wonderful_!

Griselda was only sorry that Bog and Marianne had to be separated for so long, but sadly, if just couldn't be helped.  Fairy bodies were simply too sensitive to the elements.

In the few months before Marianne left for the migration, when she and Bog _hadn't_ been going at it like _rabbits_ , the princess had been very informative as to the physical nature of her species.  Migrating wasn't simply a matter of _tradition_ among Marianne's historically nomadic kind, it was a _necessity_ for _survival_.  Just like with butterflies and other insects, fairies would grow slow and listless in cold temperatures, and the colder it was, the worse it got.

Apparently, fairy wings acted like big sponges; absorbing sunlight and warm air and converting it to energy for their bodies to use.  It kept them healthy and strong.  Fairies had to fly almost constantly throughout the day to avoid falling ill.  Even when weighed down by extra pounds, like King Dagda, they had to make several attempts to stay airborne for at least a few seconds a day, regardless.  Otherwise, the delicate joints connecting their wings to their backs could start to atrophy.  It was a deadly serious condition, which could occur from a mere seventy two hours of inactivity, so even being bedridden for sickness, or cooped up indoors from inclement weather for several days was problematic.

How they worked around such issues, was quite fascinating, in Griselda's opinion...

For illnesses, depending on the length of time, they'd wrap the wings to keep them protected, and periodically flap them up and down in a gentle, rhythmic motion, just to keep the joints active, and if possible, they'd take the recovering patient outside to sit in the sun.

For persistent rain, heavy cloud cover, or dangerously high winds, they would gather in the grand room of the castle.  Taking advantage of the large space and vaulted ceilings, they'd all fan their wings and take turns flying in groups to stir up a steady breeze; the best and only energy substitute for proper daylight.  Yet they even had to be cautious during the blazing peaks of summer, for intense heat burned up their energy faster.  And though they could stand a light mist, if their wings got soaked (too heavy to lift), then they had to be dried right away, which was a process that could take days.

Ultimately, if a fairy's wing joints ended up fully atrophying, that was it.  The only thing that could be done at that point was amputation, and without the means to draw in most of their energy and immunity to disease, it was as good as a slow, agonizing, death sentence.  The wingless fairy would just live out the rest of their remaining days, growing weaker and slower until the very end.

Of course, the worst part about all this was that it made the possibility of Marianne spending any future Winters with Bog to be out of the question.  Even if they bundled her up, and took her down underground to the largest cave they had for her to fly in, it would still be cold, there would be no sunlight, and the lack of a reliable air current for three months would just be too risky, and on the chance she did survive, she would be tired, stressed, and miserable the entire time, and Bog would NOT have that, so he carried the pain of her absence alone.

Griselda understood, perhaps too well.  After all, it was at times like these that she missed her husband the most.  For all its perks, a new season still meant more time passing without Briar by her side.  Yet, she couldn't help feeling selfish for wanting him back sometimes.  His health had been suffering so much the last few years of his life, at least in death, nothing could ever hurt him again.  Nevertheless, there were days when her longing overrode her senses.

He was the strongest, and yet at the same time, most _fragile_ goblin she'd ever known.  She could still remember the times when she would wake up in the middle of the night to find Briar squeezing her tight in his strong arms almost to the point of real discomfort.  He would never answer her concerned inquiries, but his subtle trembling spoke volumes as to what was haunting him.  So she did the best thing she could in those moments, just hold him close, stroke his scales, and whisper that she loved him, that she wasn't going anywhere, that he meant the world and _more_ to her.

Griselda may have been the only one who saw it the most, but having Bog softened Briar's heart even further; made him grow in the best way possible, but then again, that tended to happen when you were blessed with a child, especially one that you had been desperate for.

Speaking of which, that was about to become quite apparent to Stuff and Thang before next year.  Just the other day, the two had made an announcement at dinner that their first Heat as a mated pair had been successful; Stuff was _pregnant_!

As happy news as that was, it had Bog concerned about what new adjustments would need to be made for his two most reliable aides.  Any idiot knew that a baby changed _everything_.  Would Stuff and Thang decide to move out of the castle?  Would they stop working together and take shifts?  Or quit altogether and find new work that would allow them to focus more on their growing family?  If they decided to _stay_ , how tolerable would it be having to listen to a squalling infant over and over again in the wee hours of the morning?

Griselda snickered as she partially recalled Bog relaying these concerns to her the previous evening:

 _"I mean, what did ye do when_ I _cried at night?"_

 _"Oh, honey. I was lucky if I could even_ get _to you first!"_

_"What?"_

_"Well, you already know what a light sleeper your father was.  He was so attuned to you, if you so much as_ sniffled _, he was outta that bed and at your crib in a snap.  Usually, you slept pretty well through the night. If you woke up at all, it was almost always 'cause you'd just accidentally scratched or bitten yourself.  But when you'd cry, your father would pick you up, make sure you weren't hurt, and try to calm you down; and if he needed any extra help, then I'd take over."_

Smiling, she then closed her eyes, remembering a different night; one of many from decades ago...

_She was pulled from peaceful oblivion by the soft, despairing cries of her baby boy, but before she could even blink herself fully awake, she felt the bed shift and heard the deep, rumbling voice of her husband._

_"C'mere, boy."_

_Sitting up and brushing the red hair from her face, she looked over to see Briar lifting their bawling infant from his dirt padded crib and tucking him between his neck and shoulder scale._

_"Shh, shh."  He murmured, patting Bog's tiny back.  "Enough o' tha', now. Yer alrigh', yer alrigh'."_

_"Briar?"  Griselda asked, throat thick from sleep as her husband returned to their bed and sat down with their son._

_"Everythin's fine."  The king dismissed, as Bog's sobs began to cease.  "Go back tah sleep."_

_She ignored him and scooted closer, peering at the whimpering baby._

_"What happened?"_

_"Nothin', 'e jus' bit 'imself again." Briar said, holding the infant's right arm out for his wife to see the slight impression of teeth in the flesh of his small wrist._

_No blood, thankfully._

_"Oh, my poor little pine cone!"  Griselda gently cooed, kissing the mark.  "Did your ouchie scare you?"_

_"Dorn't call it tha'."  Briar grouched._

_"Call it what?"_

_"Ye_ know _wha'."_

_The queen grinned._

_"_ No _, I don't. Tell me!"_

_"Dorn't call it a...a..."_

_"An 'ouchie'?"_

_"Yes, tha'! It's undignified."_

_Griselda snorted._

_"Well,_ excuse _me, your majesty. What would you prefer, 'battle wound'?"_

_"Now yer jus' bein' ridiculous."_

_"I mean, some wound. He's not even bleeding."_

_"Would ye_ please _jus' shut up an' go back tah sleep, woman?!"_

_Full on giggling by then, Griselda leaned over to peck her husband's scarred, frowning lips._

_"Fine, but only because you're so cute when you're needled."_

_The next morning, she'd awoken to the sight of Briar sitting up in bed quietly snoring away with Bog still resting on his shoulder._

Coming back to the present, Griselda's nostalgic expression melted into a look of gloom.  She may have been thrilled to the bone for Stuff and Thang, but she couldn't deny the twinge of jealousy she felt inside.  Not for herself, but for Bog and Marianne.

Thinking of her boy when he was just a baby made her ache for her son and daughter-in-law.  She never thought the fact that a goblin and a fairy couldn't reproduce would sadden her, but as her grandmother used to say, life was both full of surprises, and was as unfair as it was beautiful.  Maybe she was nothing more than a sentimental fool, because after all, love wasn't limited to blood ties, but...there was just something _different_ about _creating_ a life together and bringing it into the world.

_And I'd always dreamed of seeing Briar's eyes again in my grandchild's sweet, tiny, face..._

Oh well, there was no use getting upset over what was set in stone. Besides, it wasn't as if Bog and Marianne couldn't at least adopt and _raise_ children. That is, if luck was on their side.

She didn't now how this sort of thing was handled in the Fairy Kingdom, but adoption in the Dark Forest was a tricky business.  Among goblins, offspring were a great source of pride; the bigger and stronger your family (or clan), the better.  So finding an unwanted child was pretty much next to impossible.

Now, orphaned young were certainly more common, for there were countless dangers in the forest, but you'd have to hope that the child or children didn't have any other relatives or willing clan members to take them in first.

_Oh, why am I torturing myself thinking about all this anyway?  They've already told me repeatedly that they're not even ready to be parents yet!_

Sighing and shaking her head to clear her mind of such bleak and complicated matters, she dragged her load over to her waiting dragonfly, Ginger, and began stuffing her findings into the saddlebags.  Despite the name, the female wasn't nearly as spirited as Griselda's previous mounts: Twitch, her impish female from her childhood at Ivy Slope, and Peppers.

Now _there_ was a fine steed!  Briar had picked him out personally for her as a gift for their first anniversary as not only husband and wife, but king and queen as well.

 _Jus' as wild as ye are._   He'd said when he'd dropped Pepper's reins into her hand the day he'd brought her to the livery to meet him.

How she missed those exciting and reckless rides through the trees!  She'd give almost anything to do it again, but alas, Ginger's docile nature, her son's worry-wart attitude, and her bad hip all made such thinking a mere pipe dream.

Getting old _sucked_.

She'd feel much better tomorrow when the fairies returned from the southlands.  Marianne was so vivacious and bold, she reminded Griselda of her youth.  She enjoyed every minute of the time they spent together.

Although, naturally, she'd have to wait her turn to welcome Marianne home properly.  Bog would have to have his...ahem... _way_ with her first.

_Or perhaps I should mean the reverse, since technically, Marianne will be the one in Heat this go-round._

The princess hadn't seemed too bothered by this 'Spring Fever'.  Essentially, along with the birth of all the new babies, fairies just got very joyful and frisky on the first day, with varying degrees of the latter depending on age and relationship status, and the females would be fertile for the duration of the Spring.  Due to Marianne's dismissive explanations, and the chance of pregnancy being nonexistent, Griselda had just written it off as an ordeal that would call for her giving her son and his mate the privacy they needed to act like horny teenagers again.

No problem.  And besides, her son could use a good lay, in her opinion.  Her sympathy aside for the Winter's separation, Bog's short temper was starting to get on her nerves.

_It's almost like it was in those love-ban years, when he had that crotchety stick up his a-_

"PEEK-A-BOO!"

"GAAAH!!!"

Screaming in terror at the unexpected (and loud) voice, Griselda tumbled backwards into the dirt as a bright blue figure burst out from the brush to Ginger's left.  The dragonfly didn't even flinch, but Griselda's pulse was racing.

Until she recognized the intruder.

"Oh, it's you."  She grumbled, getting to her feet and brushing the dust from her skirt as the Sugar Plum Fairy floated in lazy circles around her.  "Isn't there a tornado you can play in somewhere?"

"Still hilarious as ever, Griselda."  Plum smirked.  "It's always been one of your best qualities!"

"What do you want, Plum?"  The old queen asked grumpily, stooping to gather the handful of flowers she'd dropped in her fright.

"Oh, I was just in the area and thought I'd check in on my bestie!"

"We are not 'besties'. We had a temporary truce, if anything."

Plum stuck out her bottom lip in a mock-pout.

"Aw, come on, Grizzy!  Mizz Grizz!  G-rizz!"

"Stop it."

"We go _way_ back!"

"You were directly involved in the biggest heartbreak of my son's life, and you used to shamelessly flirt with my husband any time we ran into you.  You know what?  I actually think I hate you!" 

"But everything worked out for the Bog King in the end!"  Plum argued.  "And I only flirted with your husband because he was such a sourpuss it was _hysterical_ to see him get all flustered!"

_True, but..._

"That's _beside_ the point!"

Huffing, Griselda busied herself with making sure the saddlebags were full and secure.  She almost dared to hope that Plum had left, until the blissful silence was broken.

"So..." Plum said, casually examining her reflection in one of Ginger's folded wings, "tomorrow's the first day of Spring..."

"Yes."

"...and the fairies come back from the southlands."

" _Yes_."

"I imagine your son and Marianne have missed each other quite a bit."

Griselda set her jaw and didn't reply.

"They gonna...you know...... _water the plants_?  Three months sure is a long dry spell."

"That's none of your damn business!" The gobliness snapped.

"Ah, so that's a yes then!"

"..."

"Are you quite sure that's...the _wisest_ decision, Griselda?"

"Why on earth _wouldn't_ it be?"

"Why, because of the Spring Fever, of course!  Marianne'll be hotter than a tar pit and fertile as fresh soil!  Isn't it...rather _soon_ for them to be having children?  They haven't even been together a whole year!"

Griselda's lip curled in annoyance at how close Plum's nosiness had hit to home, but she managed to wave her off with disinterest.

"There's nothing to worry about.  Everybody knows fairies and goblins can't reproduce together, so if that's all, feel free to just buzz o-"

"And you're absolutely _sure_ about that?"

_Oh, for crying out loud!_

"Yes, yes, those anatomy records left over from the border wars were very thorough.  Our bodies are just too incompatible; it's _impossible_."

"Huh......interesting..."

"Why?"

"Oh, it's _nothing_..."

"..."

"...nothing at all..."

"..."

"... _not_ a _thing_..."

_Dammit!_

"Look, Plum, if you've got something to say, then spit it out already!"

"Well, now don't take this the wrong way but, your son isn't exactly a... _normal_ goblin, is he?"

Griselda rounded on the scatter-brained spirit with a furious snarl.

" _Watch_ it, Plum!"  She growled.  "And that's your _only_ warning!"

"Take it easy, bestie!"  Plum urged, throwing her hands up in surrender.  "I mean no offense! I just meant that, before the late Thunder King appeared, no one had ever seen a goblin like your son before, and the border wars happened _centuries_ before his grandfather's time!"

"So what?"

"So...those records couldn't possibly have covered the... _sexual_ compatibility of _Bog's_ particular... _sub-species_ of goblin, could they?"

Griselda paused.  She'd never considered _that_.  A faint voice in the back of her mind tickled her imagination and proceeded to stir something to life in her breast.

_But, no._

_No, it...it couldn't be!_

_There was no way._

_Right?_

"Haven't you ever wondered why your son shares a few... _physical_ similarities with those fairies?"  Plum went on, conjuring a mini-likeness of Bog for reference.

"What are you talking about?"  Griselda demanded, eyeing the doppelganger.  "Like what?"

"Duh!  Wings, ten fingers, ten toes, a prominent nose, a similar build...?"  The copy showed off each feature Plum listed, and the stirring inside Griselda strengthened at each word.

"...What's your point?"

"My point, is that very little is known about Bog's sub-species."  Plum shrugged, with feigned innocence as the fake Bog vanished.  "Perhaps, somewhere way, way, waaaaaaay back in their history...there could've been a bit of _mixing_ with the ancient fairies?"

"..."

"Plus, when you think about it, wouldn't that likely explain why it was such a challenge for you and the late Queen Vinca to conceive?"

"..."

"Yet, in the end, you were both able to, thanks in part to _diligence_ , and maybe also because _Bog's_ kind could be a sort of... _bridge_ between the world of fairies and the world of goblins?   _Hmm_?"

Griselda stared at the spirit as her brain poured over the theory.  As the seconds ticked by, the more it made sense, and the weight of this new information sank in...

"So, you're...you're saying that......that Bog and Marianne could...could have a baby?  Oh, my goodness! They could have a _baby_!"

!!!

"AW, SHIT!  THEY COULD HAVE A _BABY_!  I-I...I GOTTA GET HOME AND WARN BOG, RIGHT NOW!"

Tripping over her small feet, Griselda scrambled onto Ginger's back, gave the drowsy dragonfly a sharp, rousing kick in the abdomen, and immediately took off towards the sky.  She stubbornly resisted the urge to throw an obscene gesture over her shoulder at the fading laughter behind her:

"Nice talking with you, bestie!"

 


	2. Chapter 2

" _God_ , Marianne!  I've _missed_ ye so _much_!"

Bog growled as he scraped his teeth over the smooth flesh of Marianne's neck, reveling in having the sweet taste of her on his tongue, the scent of her in his nostrils, and feel of her lithe body in his arms, all again at long last!

"Mmm," Marianne moaned drunkenly as Bog continued to hungrily mouth at her throat, "I missed you too, Bog!  I love you, I _love_ you!"

As per her husky order, he'd shredded her clothes only minutes ago, so she was naked as the day she was born, and writhing against him like a snake.  Her skin was so hot, it was practically _burning_ him right through his scales, but he loved it.  He just couldn't touch her enough. 

The feeling was apparently, quite mutual.  Her hands were _everywhere_.  The scraping of her blunt nails on his chitin armor was pure music.  She clawed and pulled him impossibly closer, as if trying to melt right into him.

How long had he been dreaming of this moment?  And now it was finally here!  He could've wept from joy, let _alone_ the intensity of his desire! 

He could almost laugh at how many years he’d wasted hated the Spring.  Now, all that loathing had shifted to Winter, because it separated him from her.  Its once comforting and peaceful silence, was nothing more than a cold, dreary plague of white death on the earth for the past three months; almost the perfect metaphor for his heart: frozen in longing for her warmth and light. 

But at last it was over!  She was home, home, _home_!  And she had brought the sun and the birds and the flowers with her.  She brought life to him and his world.  He _loved_ this time of year, and would go on loving it until his dying day.

"Bog!”  Marianne whimpered, tugging him firmly to the ground.  “I can't wait any longer!  I _need_ you!  I need you _now_!"

Spring Fever or no, he was _more_ than happy to let her take the lead.  He allowed himself to be guided to the forest floor. The fresh moss was cool and soft against his back, and the surrounding foliage provided rather inadequate cover, but he didn’t care.  Let all of creation see them like this!  After so many agonizing weeks without her, at this point, his passion was void of all modesty.

Marianne crawled on top of him, and for the thousandth time, he was struck speechless by her beauty.  The lustful haze in her large honey-brown eyes, the fevered blush coating every inch of her exposed creamy skin, and the gleam of the sun through her gorgeous lilac wings.  Just as breathtaking as it was that first night, when the perfect moonlight had made her glow like a goddess as she’d flown with him across his wild land. 

He was so in awe, he almost missed it when her greedy fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of his neck.  Slowly, they trailed down over his collar plates, his chest, thorax, abdomen…

_Lower...lower..._

Even when he knew it was coming, he still arched and groaned desperately when she gripped his heavy erection in both hands.  She firmly pumped him once, twice, three times before she properly straddled him, lined his tip up with her dripping slit, and joined them together. 

Bog grit his teeth to keep from sobbing at the feel of her once again.  Her deliciously wet heat enveloping, squeezing, and flooding him with pure ecstasy to every last niche of his being.  All those lonely nights he’d jerked himself off to her fantasy form, they were a joke compared to reality.  Here; right here inside of her, _this_ was where he belonged. 

For being so enamored, it was no wonder that all he could do was lay there like a slug as Marianne rode him like a heathen.  Her pace was merciless, her head thrashed in nearly every direction, her hands pawed savagely at her body, as if trying to hold it together against the eruptive force of her fever, and a wanton litany spewed from her plum lips.  He’d never heard her use such filthy language before, but it was far from a turn off.  Baring his fangs in a snarl, he grabbed onto her hips for dear life, encouraging her rapid movements as she impaled herself on him, over and over and over.

As their pleasure climbed, so did her volume and pace.  She screamed of how good he felt, demanded that he keep fucking her until she came, then take her again!

_As my queen commands…_

His eyes almost rolled back in rapture as her inner muscles began expertly clenching around him.  She was close; _so_ close!  And he was right with her!

He met her scorching gaze as she furiously rubbed her clit.

_Come on, my Tough Girl!_

"Oh, yes!  _Yes_!  Bog!  Bog!  Bog!  _Bog_!"

"BOG, WAKE UP!!!"

All at once, Marianne's beautiful, blushing face morphed into the wrinkled and grey likeness of his mother.  Bog's heart seized up and he let out a mortifying, high-pitched shriek of terror as he sprang away from her and fell off the opposite side of the bed with the blanket tangled around his legs.  He awkwardly landed in a messy heap on the wooden floor, and his bottom left wing stalk throbbed from a sprain.

Cursing from the pain, as well as the embarrassment of being both caught so off guard and… _exposed_ due to the nature of his dream, he swiftly wrapped a sheet around his hips and shot to his feet.

"Mom!”  He shouted.  “What the _bloody_ hell are ye _doin'_ in here?!" 

He waited impatiently for an explanation, or with his luck, some quip about how she'd ' _seen it before_ ', but neither came.  In fact, Griselda looked pretty distressed: hair frazzled, headband askew, sweating, breathing heavily, and dark eyes shining with excitement.

"Mom?"  Bog asked, concern gradually replacing his humiliation.  "Mom, are ye alrigh'?  What's wrong?"

The old queen’s hands gestured weakly and her mouth opened wider, clearly wishing to speak, but she was panting too hard to utter a single coherent word.

“Here, s-sit down, mom.”  Bog instructed, crossing the room and guiding her to a nearby chair beside a small table with a water pitcher and goblet.  Once she was seated, he turned and filled the goblet for her.  “Drink up.”

"Oh Bog, honey!"  Griselda gasped after she'd swallowed three mouthfuls.  "We have a _serious_ problem!"

"What problem?  What's _happened_?"  Bog urgently questioned, before he took a mental guess and rolled his eyes.  "What's Thang done now?"

A beat, and his face colored with worry.

"Or is it Stuff?  Is their baby okay?!"

Griselda flinched at the word and let out a wail so loud and pitiful, it made Bog jump.

"Mom!  Mom, yer freakin' me out!  What the hell is the matter with ye?!"

Calming herself, Griselda relayed her exchange with Plum as quickly and concisely as she could.  Throughout her story, she watched Bog’s face go through quite a range of emotion.   

Anxiety, confusion, shock, disbelief, a hint of joy, then finally, total exasperation and dread.

"Mom, ye've got to be _kiddin'_ me!  Yer tellin' me this _now_?!  Marianne'll be home in only a few hours!"

"I’m sorry, dear!  I didn't know about it any earlier!"

By then, Bog’s erection had safely receded, so he had no qualms about angrily throwing the blanket back onto the bed and pacing the room as he clawed the scales on his head in aggravation.

"I swear, if I ever see one damn sparkle from that blasted Sugar Plum Fairy again, I'll lock her up fer GOOD!!!"

“Don’t be ridiculous, Bog!  It’s not her fault!  If anyone’s to blame, it should be _me_!”

“How could ye _possibly_ be to blame, mom?”

For a beat, Griselda was silent, but her eyes refilled with tears as she grabbed Bog’s hand and tugged him down to kneel beside her.

“Sweetheart…I loved your father with…with…absolutely _everything_ in me.  And I love _you_ even _more_.  I was…so _happy_ …when I found out I was finally pregnant with you; _so_ happy!  After everything we went through…words couldn’t hope to describe how I felt when I held you in my arms for the very first time.”

Bog shifted a bit, uncomfortable, but not unappreciative of his mother’s words, though he stilled completely when her palm came up to cup his cheek.  How many times had she done that over the course of his life? Too many to count.  And even when he was at the limit of his patience with her, the gesture never once failed to give him some semblance of calm and comfort, as it should from a loving parent to their child. 

“Obviously, I always knew that you and Briar were… _different_ ; I’d have to be blind not to, but…I saw how much those differences hurt your father; how he hated being _anything_ like…like the Thunder King.  That was the _last_ thing I wanted for you, Bog.  So, I did everything I could to make you _and_ your dad see that your differences didn’t matter.  Yet…as good as my intentions were…it wasn’t honest.”

“Honest?”

“Just because your differences don’t _matter_ , it still doesn’t mean that they don’t _exist_ altogether.  It was such a struggle to conceive, carry, and then _deliver_ you; all because Briar, and by extension, you, are from a line of goblins unlike any other.  This should’ve instantly crossed my mind when you and Marianne were…”

She trailed off with a tired sigh.

“I was just too wrapped up in my desire to protect your feelings.  _Believe_ me, darling, I love you and your father for many, _many_ reasons, but also _because_ of your differences, _not_ despite them.  Does that all make sense?”

Bog stared at his mother for a moment before gently taking her hand from his face and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Yeah, an’ it’s okay.  I love ye too, mom.”  He murmured before eyeing her pointedly.  “But we’ve got more important things to focus on right now.”

“Of course, of course!”  Griselda said, sniffing loudly and gathering herself.  “Well, since this is so last minute, I hate to do this to you, dear, but I honestly don’t have a better plan besides keeping you two apart until Marianne’s Fever is through.”

From both her rapid gear-switch _and_ ludicrous suggestion, Bog recoiled as if he’d been punched.

“Mom, we can’t do that to Marianne!  That’s the cruelest thing I’ve ever heard!"

“Oh, don't be so dramatic, Bog!  It's not like I won't _explain_ everything to her!  I mean, I know she'll be...'in the mood' but, she'll still be reasonable, right?"

"..."

" _Right_?"

"I dorn't _know_!"

"Wh-?  What do you _mean_ you don't know?  Didn't she _tell_ you?!"

"No!"

"Why _not_?!"

"BECAUSE WE DIDN'T THINK THIS WOULD BE A BIG DEAL!"

"Well, what _did_ she tell you?"

“That…that the Fever happens every Spring…that she’d be……’in the mood’.”

“Until when, exactly?”

“Jus’ fer the first day…I think.”

“You _think_?!”

“Look, the bottom line is: I am _not_ going to lock myself away from her!  We’ve been apart for three months.  I _worn’t_ make it _six_!”

The two goblins scowled at each other for several long seconds, until Griselda huffed and crossed her arms.

“Ugh!  Fine, if that’s the way you feel about it!  Then what do _you_ propose we do, huh?  Now that you _might_ be able to get Marianne pregnant, just _how_ do you think you can be with her _and_ avoid the risk while she in _heat_ , and therefore, may _not_ be up for a rational discussion?!”

Grumbling, Bog resumed his furious pacing.  His mind ran a mile a minute. 

Why?

Why did everything have to be so damn complicated?!

He couldn’t even enjoy the euphoria he felt at the tiny glimmer of hope this news had given him.  The thought of Marianne bearing his children made him want to sing to the heavens and fly in dizzying circles all throughout the Dark Forest, and now there could be an actual chance for it all to happen!

Except, _Marianne_ wasn’t aware of it.  She was currently on her way home.  She was _expecting_ to have sex with him as soon as they were reunited; that’s what they had prepared for.  That’s what they both wanted.  Bog was _desperate_ for her; had been all Winter!  And he couldn’t turn Marianne away, knowing she would be in such a state _on top_ of likely missing him just as much!  However, there was _no_ way he could bed her with this knowledge!  She _had_ to know!  But would she be able to listen?  He knew the Fever wasn’t supposed to be as intense as the goblin Heat, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t intense at _all_.  Regardless, it would be foolish to bet on it.  There were too many unanswered questions; too much uncertainty!  _He_ had no solution.

Roaring in frustration, Bog slammed his fist into the wall.

“Mom, there _has_ to be somethin’ _else_ we can do!  _You_ grew up in a border town!  Ye probably _still_ know more about fairies than I do!  Can’t ye think o’ _anythin’_ that could help us?”

“All I know about _this_ sort of thing for the fairies are rumors.”

“What _kind_ o’ rumors?”

“Once or twice I heard it mentioned that the fairies have a way to…stop conception.”

Bog paused and frowned at his mother, hesitantly curious, but confused.  He’d never heard of such a thing.

“How?  Why would they have-?”

“I don’t know _how_ , but as to _why_ , I _suppose_ it’s because since they live in the fields with significantly less death threats that the forest, they get more concerned about _over_ population instead of _under_ population.”

“Well…if it’s true, then…how is it done?  Would it still work even though I’m a goblin?”

“I haven’t a clue, Bog!  I told you, it was a rumor!  We need facts!  Facts from a better source.”

Griselda scratched her chin, before her eyes brightened with an idea.

“Yes, that’s it!”

“What?”

“A better source!  Don’t you see?  There’s only one other person I know left that might have answers for us, and he grew up around fairies!  Better yet, he grew up around Marianne, herself!  We have to go see _Sunny_!”

“ _Who_?”

“Dawn’s boyfriend!  Sunny, the _elf_?  You know, the one who came to the Dark Forest last year, and stole the-”

“Are ye _crazy_?!”

“It’s either him or Plum, Bog.  Make your choice, though I _will_ point out that we’d have to hunt Plum down, and that would just waste time that we already don’t have.”

Bog wanted to crawl under a rock and die.  He’d rather pluck all his scales off than speak to Plum about this, but going to Sunny wasn’t much of a trade up.  He still didn’t trust the little thief after the stunt he’d pulled, but to be fair, it _did_ sort of lead to him meeting Marianne, so he’d tried to at least be civil, for Dawn’s sake, if nothing else. 

But this would be so personal and _embarrassing_!  He wouldn’t be able to look the elf in the eye ever again!

 _Dammit._  

 

* * *

 

 

“Bog, can’t you fly any faster?!”

“I’m goin’ as fast as I can!”

Bog winced as he flapped harder to keep pace with his mother’s dragonfly.  The sprain in his wing stalk _really_ ached now, and flying was _definitely_ making it worse.  If not for this, they would’ve already been crossing into the Light Fields by now.  Warily, he eyed what little of the eastern horizon he could see through the trees.  It was still plenty dark out, but Bog wasn’t fooled.  The first sunrise of Spring was well on its way.  

Thankfully, the Elf Village wasn’t too far past the border.  In fact, as soon as the goblin pair did fly over the blooming primroses, they just followed the winding creek upstream for half-a-mile before a cluster of quaint, shingled houses came into view.  He had never been to Sunny’s dwelling, but his mother, busybody that she was, must’ve found out somehow during the past year, for she made a beeline for a single home situated on the farthest, western corner of the village, closest to the currently empty Fairy Castle in the shadowy distance.

When they touched down, Bog had to bite back a hum of relief at the ease of tension on his injured wing as Griselda scrambled off Ginger’s saddle, tied her reins to a protruding shrub root, and jogged up to the front door.

“Sunny?”  She called, knocking sharply on the wood.  “Sunny!  Sunny, are you in there?”

Unsurprisingly, there was no answer.  After all, it _was_ the dead of night, but they were in trouble _and_ in a _huge_ hurry, so being considerate was not a priority.

Stomping to the door, Bog pounded both hands against it with enough force to rattle the whole building.  

“OPEN UP, ELF!!!”  He roared.

No one could sleep could through _that_.

Not even a minute later, there was the sound of the latch being drawn and the door creaked open, revealing Sunny’s speckled, brown face.  His startled cocoa eyes grew impossibly wider when he caught sight of just _who_ was calling on him at this hour.

“Y-Y-Your…y-your majes-!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.  No time for all that now!”  Griselda interrupted, forcing the door aside and brushing past him.  “Excuse us, please.”

Bog grouched under his breath as his height left him no alternative but to literally _crawl_ in after them.  Built for an elf, the ceiling was so low, that even when he reached the somewhat larger den where his mother and Sunny were waiting, he could do nothing but crouch on the floor, laying his staff beside him.  

“Um…c-can I get you anything?”  Sunny asked nervously as Griselda settled into a cushy chair of dyed red leather.  “Tea or biscuits or-?”

“Forget the tea and the biscuits!  Sunny, forgive the intrusion, but we need your help!”

“ _Me_?  My _help_?”  He repeated, cocking his head at the old queen.  “W-with _what_?”

“Tell us everything you know about the Spring Fever!”

Sunny stiffened and his cheeks flushed a bright scarlet. 

“…Come again?”

“Ye _heard_ her!”  Bog impatiently snapped, making the elf flinch.

“Well,” Sunny gulped, “wh-what else is there to know?  Didn’t Marianne already-?”

“We’re askin’ _you_!”

Griselda cleared her throat and shot a glare in Bog’s direction.

“What my incredibly _rude_ son is trying to say is that Marianne _did_ give us the _condensed_ version of just what to expect, but we’ve…recently come across something that basically makes things a lot more… _complicated_ than we originally thought.  So…now we need to know _more_.”

“How…how much more?”

“Everything; as much as you can tell us.  _Please_ , it’s _very_ important!”

“B-but why _me_?”

“Because with all the fairies gone, an’ you havin’ grown up with Marianne, yer the _only_ person we could come to about this!  Start _talkin’_!”

Sunny looked equal parts understanding…and _nauseous_. 

“ _NOW_!”

“O-okay, okay!”  The frightened elf stammered, watching his twiddling fingers.  “Uh…th-the Fever is a…condition that affects all the fairies starting on the first day of Spring.  Throughout the entire season, the females can c-conceive, and all the ones that were pregnant _last_ year, will give birth over the course of the next three months.  It’s a very happy time for them.  Life beings anew and there’s lots of singing, dancing, and…well, y-y-you know…but _that’s_ only for the mature adults that are still in their…ch-child-bearing years.  Everyone else is just really giddy and energetic.”

“So, you’re saying the Fever happens to everyone, but it’s… _intensity_ is dependent upon age?”

“Right.”

“Wait,” Bog interjected, “ye said ‘ _startin’_ on the first day o’ Spring’.  Marianne told me her Fever would only last all day tomorrow!”

“Oh…uh, well…y-yeah it _would_ , if you guys were planning to…to, er…… _m-mate_ as soon as she came home.”

“What?”

“The…I guess, _height_ of the Fever only lasts until a fairy couple actually…ah……”

“That’s all it takes?”  Griselda pressed, scooching forward in her seat.  “Just one time?”

“Y-yeah, then the Fever calms and…they spend of the season in a really good mood like everybody else.  Typically, fairies will…take care of all _that_ on the first day, that’s probably what Marianne meant.”

Bog and Griselda shared a glance, before the latter took a deep breath and went on:

“Do you…happen to know if the fairies…have any way to…”

“To…what?”

“…K-keep from getting pregnant?”

Sunny’s eyebrows lifted at that. 

“Well, s-sure they do.  There are some special herbs a fairy couple can both take beforehand if they’d rather not conceive for any reason, but why would you wanna know about that?  Isn’t it impossible for a fairy and a goblin to-?”

“Fer a fairy an' a _normal_ goblin, yes.”  Bog cut in derisively.  “But as it turns out, it jus'  _might_ not be as impossible fer _me_.”

The elf seemed lost for a second, until his expression brightened.

“Oh.  _Oh_!  I _see_!  Now it all makes sense!  That’s _awesome_!”

At the thick silence in return, his enthusiasm melted into a sympathetic wince. 

“…Or…I’m guessing it… _would_ be if the timing wasn’t… _horrible_ , huh?”

Bog ignored the question.

“What about these herbs?  Where can we get them?”

Sunny grimaced. 

“You can’t.”

“What?!”  The goblin king barked.  “What do ye mean, we can’t?!”

“They only grow in the southlands!”  Sunny explained.  “If a fairy couple wants to use them, then they have to eat the herbs just before they come back to the fields.”

The first true stab of fear hit Bog then.  There went their safest bet.  And now, knowing that Marianne’s Fever would be at its most severe until they had sex, it left no other option.  His only remaining hope was one he had previously dismissed.  Would he be able to _talk_ to Marianne through her Fever?  Make her realize what was going on?  Could she control herself?

“How _strong_ can the Fever get?”

Sunny’s face pinched with discomfort and he ducked his head, ears growing rose-pink.  He _clearly_ wished he could be _anywhere_ else on the planet but in that room.

“Speak up, elf!”  Bog demanded, patience almost maxed out.  “ _Tell_ me!”

“It...it, eh......it depends.”

“On _what_?”

“…o-on how...how s-s-sexually active the couple usually is when they’re together.”

The information hung in the heavy, silent air for several long seconds as panic began to creep into Bog’s limbs, and his mind flashed back to those three nights of rigorous love-making in that weeping willow, as well as the...following two _very_ passionate weeks before she left for the migration. 

A muffled snort of laughter came from his mother, and he felt a pat on his arm.

“Oh, you’re _doomed_.”

Aghast at how his mother could suddenly find this _funny_ , Bog spun around to growl at her, but a noise distracted him. 

The twittering of a bird…

…and faint laughing…

…and _singing_ …

…getting closer and closer…

_The fairies!_

Everyone’s eyes immediately went to the only window in the room.  They’d all been so focused on the conversation, no one had noticed the pale beams of sunrise gradually pouring inside.

They were out of time.

Griselda and Sunny quickly stood, but Bog couldn’t bring himself to move, let alone think straight.  He felt like a cornered animal. 

The sound of the wind picked up outside, and the voices grew louder, but one in particular became clearer than the rest.  In the same breath, Bog’s heart skipped, then settled as he recognized it.  He could never forget _that_ voice.

 _I close my eyes and see you before me_  
_Think I would die if you were to ignore me_  
_A fool could see just how much I adore you_  
_I'd get down on my knees, I'd do anything for you_

At that moment, the slim, blonde figure of Dawn flew in through the window.  Bog and Griselda might as well have not even been there, for she gave them no acknowledgement whatsoever, and instead zeroed in on an utterly shell-shocked Sunny as she smoothly (and **very** suggestively) continued her song, running her hands all over her body in the dirtiest manner possible!  
  
_I don't want anybody else_  
_When I think about you, I touch myself_  
_Ooh, I don't want anybody else_  
_Oh no, oh no, oh no_

Bog was frozen in absolute slack-jawed horror, as was his mother.  Whatever image they’d had of sweet, innocent, baby-sister Dawn was shattered beyond recognition.  Unwillingly, they recalled Sunny’s words and in slow unison, they turned to gape at the mortified elf, who was now staring at his feet.

“I’m…” he croaked, “…s-sorry, but…I’m gonna have to ask you two to leave now.”

The goblins didn’t need to be told twice, and they couldn’t get out fast enough.  Griselda even swore as she tripped over her gangly son on their way out the door.

Once outside, the pair paused as their attention was seized by the spectacle overhead.

If Bog wasn’t currently scarred for life and scared to death, he’d probably say he was seeing the most beautiful morning of his entire life.  The sky was _filled_ with an _enormous_ swarm of fairies.  Their joyful voices rang through the air, and the rising sun cast its bright rays through their fluttering wings, creating gorgeous, multicolored patterns all over the land below.  Bog’s heart was racing as his eyes frantically scanned the rainbow cluster for a hint of purple.

No sign of her yet, but he was pulled from his search by his mother’s resigned sigh.

“That’s it.  You’re on your own, Bog.”

“What?!”  Bog cried, whirling about to find her jerking Ginger’s reins free from the root.

“I’m getting out of here before Marianne shows up!”

“Mom, ye can’t jus’ _leave_ me!  I need yer _help_!”

“Honey, just _what_ do you expect _me_ to do?!  I’m not getting between you and a sex-crazed Marianne!  The woman carries a _sword_ for peat’s sake!”

“But, I-!”

“I’m sorry, dear.  It’s just too late now, there’s nothing else we can do!  Besides, you’re an adult.  _Your_ mate, _your_ problem.”

“Mom!”  Bog begged, snatching Ginger’s reins.  “With the state she’s in, if I _dorn’t_ mate with her, it’ll be like _torturin’_ her fer three months!  But if I _do_ , an’ she gets pregnant without bein’ _warned_ , she…she’d _hate_ me fer that!”

“Sweetheart,” Griselda soothed, cupping his cheek again, “Marianne loves you; she _knows_ you.  Whatever happens…we can only hope for the best, but at this point, _you_ two have to figure this out _together_.  You’re a team; I know you can handle this, no matter what.”

With that, Griselda tugged the reins free from Bog’s grasp with an encouraging smile, stirred Ginger to flight, and within seconds, was just a fading speck heading for the border.

Then, as if on cue, a gentle breeze touched Bog from behind….    

.

.

.

And on it, was a unique, mouth-watering, all too familiar scent….

.

.

.

Followed by the soft sound of two feet hitting the ground…

.

.

.

She’d _found_ him.


	3. Chapter 3

Every nerve was crackling under Bog’s scales as he carefully turned around.  Despite the circumstances, his chest still grew warm and fluttery when he finally saw her. Three months might as well have been three  _centuries_ , and his dreams had failed  _miserably_ to do Marianne justice:

That slim, fairy figure, hiding such impressive brute strength and skill, wrapped in a sleeveless frock of magenta fading into a pale pink at the knee-high skirt.  Her creamy peach colored skin that smelled of pomegranate with a hint of lavender. Those enormous, and  _beautiful_  butterfly wings of iris purple.  That wild mane of cropped, silky brown hair. Her full, pouty plum lips.  And her  _eyes_!

Her large, shadowed eyes…

…so bright and soulful…

….full of curiosity, intelligence, sass…

.

.

.

…and at the moment,  _major_  lust.

Damn skies  _above_ , the way she was  _looking_  at him!

He had seen that devouring look before, but this time, it was like comparing a single hot coal to a raging bushfire! The scent of her arousal was so potent, he could actually  _taste_  it!

Bog was a predator by nature; hunting was in his blood.  Yet, standing there, trapped by her gaze roaming over his body like greedy hands, he knew...

For the first time in his life, now  _he_  was the prey.

And heaven have mercy, he could already feel himself responding to it.  At the beginning minute shift in his pelvic plates, he not-so-subtly tilted his royal staff for some modicum of cover.

Marianne watched the movement and licked her lips, which  _severely_  did NOT help the situation.  The plates moved back even more, and Bog’s tongue thrashed behind his teeth like a caged lizard, desperate to kiss her.  

Gradually, Bog lost most of his awareness to the world around him.  The waking morning, the Elf Village, and the stream of numerous, giddy fairies overhead? Couldn’t be more gone from his mind.

His heart began to race and the air was fraught with the sort of anticipation one had right before something big, like a thunderclap or earthquake.  There was a persistent ringing in his ears, his shoulders twitched, and the longer Marianne ogled him as if he was a juicy slab of meat, the more his mind scrambled to remember his plan of action.  

Oh, yeah!

He needed to talk to her so, perhaps he should start with that…

“Marianne.”

 _Bad_  idea.  At the sound of his voice rumbling her name, Marianne’s eyes fluttered and her breathing came in loud hisses as she took a single step towards him.

Instinctually, Bog retreated the same distance, bringing his free hand up in a neutral gesture.

“Take it easy, Tough Girl.”

He really needed to stop talking.  A hungry sound left Marianne’s throat and Bog’s mouth watered as he clearly saw her nipples harden beneath her dress.  Lazily, her head lolled back.

And then she slowly began to  _sing_.

_I am no angel_

Steadily, her burning stare returned, and Bog gulped.

_I like it when you do that stuff to me_

Again, she stepped closer, and this time, poor Bog was just glued on the spot, too spellbound to move, as she continued  _and_  picked up her tempo.  

_I am no angel  
I like it when you talk, talk dirty, when you talk…_

_…talk…_

_…talk…_

_…talk…_

_…talk, talk, talk, talk…_

On cue, the most unquestionably  _wicked_  grin spread over Marianne’s lips.

**_Dirty talk_ **

It was as if a bolt of lightning struck Bog then, and in that split second, he realized two things:

One, Marianne was barely out of arms reach by now, and  _very_  likely about to jump him right here in front of Sunny’s house!  

And two, maybe it was ironic, but as much as she apparently liked his ‘talking’, it was painfully clear that she was  _not_  going to be able to listen to a single rational word he had to say.  

If he didn’t do something, anything,  _fast_ , then he was going to be trapped.  But an agitated Bog was terrible at making snap decisions, so he did probably the worst thing possible.

He fled.

And, as a true predator, Marianne gave chase, belting her heart out for all the world to hear:

 _Kitten heels, Lingerie_  
_Pantyhose, Foreplay_  
_Legs up, on the bar_  
_Bite me there, leave a scar_  
_Latex, champagne_  
_Bubble bath, whipped cream_  
_Cherry pop, wet dream_  
_Can you make me scream_

Bog grit his teeth hard as he raced east out of the waking Elf Village towards the shelter of the Dark Forest.  The searing pain in his wing stalk, coupled with Marianne’s ‘ _suggestions_ ’, were making it almost impossible to fly let alone  _think_  straight.    
  
_I wanna do some dirty things to you tonight_  
_I wanna fight, all through the night, night, night_

He couldn’t believe how dumb he was acting!  Running away from her like some coward!  He was a king!  Furthermore, he was  _twice_  her size,  _and_  naturally armored!  There was no way she could wrestle him to the ground!  Right?  
  
_I am no angel_  
_I like it when you do that stuff to me_  
_I am no angel_  
_I like it when you talk, {talk} dirty when you talk {talk}_

Oh, who was he kidding?  If she wanted to have her way with him (and he really wanted it too) then any fight he would manage to put up would be pathetic at best.  

No, no, this was simply a matter of finding a more…private location for…whatever was about to unfold between them.  He’d had enough embarrassment for one day.  It was definitely _not_ because he was a scared little pansy or anything!  
  
_Blindfold, feather bed_  
_Tickle me, slippery_  
_G spot, nasty pose_  
_Pluck me like a rose_  
_Don’t wanna be, by myself_  
_Climax, hot wax_  
_S &M on the floor, I like it hardcore_

Where on earth had she learned a song like this?!  He wished he could block his ears; curse his bloody staff! The literal and  _especially_  the figurative one!  Like it would’ve done any good, his imagination was already having a field day, and he wasn’t even sure what S&M was!  
  
_I wanna do some dirty things to you tonight_  
_I wanna fight, all through the night, night, night_

As soon as Bog crossed the river and darted into the Dark Forest’s tree line, he felt a marginal amount of relief.  He veered south for the less populated areas of his kingdom.  

 _I am no angel_  
_I like it when you do that stuff to me_  
_I am no angel_  
_I like it when you talk, dirty when you talk_

It was obviously difficult to maintain his speed, with such an unfairly tempting distraction coupled with his injury, but when Marianne began overtaking him and playfully blocking his path, he soon lost his sense of direction and more or less ended up flying blind through the thick brush.

 _I am no angel_  
_I like it when you do that stuff to me_  
_I am no angel_  
_I like it when you talk, dirty when you talk_

No matter where he turned, in a matter of seconds, there she was in front of him again: winking, smirking, and still purring that song!

_Dirty talk_

She was toying with him.  Of course, she was!  It was her favorite thing to do; drive him absolutely mad!  But he knew this game could only entertain her for so long.  He was on borrowed time.  

As if attesting to that, his sprained wing gave a particularly sharp flare of pain and he grit his teeth to stifle a grunt.   
  
_Can you go down,_  
_Are you up for it, baby_  
_Can you turn me out, are you up for it_

Dodging Marianne for what had to be at least the eighth time, Bog luckily spotted a ray of hope a few yards away to his left.  An impressively large oak tree rooted beside a flat, pear-shaped boulder. He recognized that landmark!  It meant there weren’t any goblin dens around for over five miles, so whatever was about to happen, they’d thankfully be alone for it.

_Talk to me... talk to me...  
Talk dirty to me... talk dirty to me_

Bolstering himself, Bog made a dash for the tree, not caring for the twigs and leaves slapping his face.  Marianne was so close behind him, he could hear her controlled breathing between her crooning.  

Almost….almost there…  
  
_Talk to me... talk to me..._  
_Talk dirty to me... talk dirty to me_

Then, there was an explosion of pleasure so sudden and powerful, it knocked the wind right out of Bog’s lungs,  _and_  from beneath his wings.  Marianne’s sneaky little hands had reached out and slid themselves right down his sensitive back.

_Clever girl!_

She knew _just_ where to strike, and he went down; tumbling head over heels until he faceplanted in a mossy patch of tall grass.

 _I am no angel_  
_I like it when you do that stuff to me_  
_I am no angel_  
_I like it when you talk, dirty when you talk_

Scrambling onto his hands and knees, Bog frantically scanned the area and made a clumsy crawl towards the only sanctuary available: a rotten tree stump. Not exactly the destination he was aiming for, but close enough he supposed.  There was a crevice  _just_  wide enough for him to fit through, but it was too low inside for his tall frame to fully sit up.  So, all he could do was flip over, lay there, and watch the opening with a wary eye.

 _I am no angel_  
_I like it when you do that stuff to me_  
_I am no angel_  
_I like it when you talk, dirty when you talk_

And now he was hiding. This was stupid.  So… _so_  incredibly stupid.  Just the stupid icing on the stupid cake!  She was going to find him.  And when she did, there’d be no escape since he’d cornered himself in this ridiculous tree trunk.  

_If we do have a kid, I hope they get their brain from their mother!_

No sooner had the thought left his mind, when he saw Marianne’s two legs drop to the ground.  She carefully toed off her slippers, approached the opening of the stump, slid to her knees, and crawled in after him. 

Bog couldn’t help admiring her movements: so sensuous and controlled; like a snake.  In such a small space, she only had room to climb on top of him, a fact she appeared to be quite pleased with.  She straddled him firmly, planting her hands on his chest, and her heavy breaths echoed off the walls of their makeshift den.

Her prey was caught.

The wicked excitement and focus on her face was almost unreal.  Bog had never seen her like this before, and it was truly _fascinating_ to behold. 

Briefly, he wondered if his  _own_ Heat had had any lasting effects on her.  What if mating with a goblin made her Fever uniquely intense?  Though he _really_ didn’t want to remember it, even if she had ignored him and his mother’s presence, Dawn still seemed like…well, _herself_ earlier; all happy and singing and…ugh.

Marianne, on the other hand, was practically _feral_.

And Bog had never been more turned on in his life!  Was this even _partially_ what it had been like for _her_ this past Fall?  He was so awestruck, he couldn’t move an inch!

But he could still speak. 

“Marianne, I- _mmph_!”

 _Idiot._  

What exactly did he think would be different about trying to talk to her this time?  She attacked his mouth with a wanton moan, tongue delving past his lips to conquer all.  Automatically, Bog’s eyes fluttered closed as he struggled to reciprocate as best he could. 

Words couldn’t describe how _fantastic_ it was to kiss her again!  Dammit all, he’d missed her so _much_!  And her hands were _everywhere_ ; making him shiver and flush with need, but when he reached up to hold her, she roughly pulled away and pinned his arms out to the sides.  Stunned and panting, he stared as she leaned in close and fucking _growled_ at him in goblin-tongue:

_“……Want……mate……”_

He didn’t even have a split second to appreciate the evidence of his theory, before Marianne shot forward and sank her teeth into the flesh of his neck. 

Pure instinct flooded Bog then as he thrashed beneath her, crying out in equal parts shock and ecstasy.  There was no way his erection could be concealed any longer; it swelled to its fullest, throbbing for her.  And she was _relentless_ ; suckling and lashing his skin with her tongue as she gnawed like a starving animal. 

Eventually, he stilled and uttered a whimper of submission to her act of dominance.  She sighed happily, and he hissed as she released him with a soothing peck over the bruise she’d left behind.  It wasn’t until she began shimmying down his body, having noticed his length pressing against her backside, that he started coming back to his senses and, as a result _panicking_.

How could he be so weak?!  He’d basically just given her the go ahead to take him however she wished!  To be fair, he had _not_ been expecting her to use _goblin_ mating tactics while in the throes of her _fairy_ Spring Fever.  But what the hell was he supposed to do now?!

Only then, did he notice her kneeling between his spread legs, eagerly eyeing his aching thickness. 

_Okay, okay.  Calm down.  Maybe this’ll be enough for her.  A detterent!  I’ve tired her out with foreplay once or twice, I’m sure I can-_

All coherent thought stuttered to a halt the instant he felt her grip him in her tiny hands.

Helpless, he writhed and groaned as she stroked him over and over.  Like a bobcat, she purred and nuzzled against his prick, leaving teasing licks and pecks in her wake.  A slight, gentle grazing of teeth was his only warning before she took him into her mouth, sucking and pumping him such intensity, Bog flinched and swore, momentarily forgetting all about their unfortunate situation, in favor of thinking only about how much he _loved_ this fairy vixen!  

The thatched roof of wood and mud above him blurred in his vision as Marianne took him all the way back to their precious few weeks before Winter.  Sure, over the course of the year, they’d gotten to know each other’s bodies and fooled around, but after his Heat, it was different.  Like their first fight, the passion was unbridled, and Bog had been utterly enthralled not just by her unwavering thirst for him, but her ability to outright _destroy_ him; to tear him to pieces with rapture, to make _nothing_ matter at all to him except her and her touch.  

Case in point, while still bobbing her head on him, she chose then to let go of his base to run her hands all over his stomach, hips, chest, _anywhere_ she could reach.  Almost mentally tricking him into thinking there was more than one Marianne there!

This blew all the sex dreams he’d had clear out of the water.  It was no wonder he was close to completion within a mere couple of minutes.  But just as he was about to burst, she released him, and the grin on her face told him she’d done it on purpose!

There was no need to complain, however.  Giggling, Marianne quickly shifted around, presenting her ample rear to her enthralled consort.  With a coy glance over her shoulder, she tugged her skirt up over her waist, revealing that she wasn’t wearing a stitch of underwear! 

After three tortuously long and lonely months, the mere sight of Marianne’s bare flesh had Bog sagging in the dirt.  His entire body rippled with desire as he gazed upon her.  Like a sliced peach, she was pink, ripe, glistening wet, and yet scorching hot; the heat of her warmed his cheeks.  And her scent!  God, her  _scent_!  He wanted to fucking  _drown_ in it!

There was no way in  _hell_  he could refuse such a feast!  So, with the appetite and ferocity of a beast, he grabbed her hips and buried his face in her slick folds.

He nearly passed out right there from the exquisite taste of her; sugary sweet with a salty hint, and _molten_!   When had she taken off her panties?  While they were flying?  Or had she never had any on to begin with? 

Did he even _give_ a shit?

Marianne arched her back and howled her delight, encouraging him, and driving his lust to the stars.  Bog lapped and slurped, smearing her across his lips, chin, and nose.    Flicking his tongue skillfully against her clit, just the way he knew she loved, and in her extra-aroused state, it was no surprise when she came apart in mere seconds.  Gulping her nectar down his ravenous throat, he allowed no escape as she flailed and screamed above him.

When she relaxed, Bog’s head fell back to the dirt with a thud.  Catching his breath, his arms slid down to her knees, which he leisurely pet as his bewitched mind droned:

_Beautiful._

_So, beautiful._

_Oh, my Tough Girl…_

His respite was short-lived however, when Marianne giggled again, _mischievously_.  She met his eye over her shoulder and he watched, confused as she slipped two of her fingers into her mouth, wetting them thoroughly.  

“Marianne, what are ye-?”

The answer came when he suddenly felt the soaked digits probing his entrance! 

Jumping in alarm, he babbled in confused protest, not quite able to wrap his mind around her lewd intentions until it was too late.  Her mouth returned to him, causing a partial diversion as she gently pushed the first digit inside.  Bog’s shocked yelp twisted into a groan at the exploring and _extremely_ foreign intrusion.  He didn’t understand what was happening, nor why though it indeed felt strange and slightly painful, it……wasn’t entirely unpleasant? 

But Marianne didn’t give him much time to ruminate before she squeezed her second finger into his tight passage, and making a scissoring motion to stretch him out.  The swear on his lips was smothered by her choosing to suck on him again, swishing and swirling her tongue around his tip, and effectively distracting him from her apparent master plan. 

Out of fucking nowhere, Bog jolted as Marianne’s digits brushed against a spot inside him that he never knew existed!  Whatever it was, it pooled lava in his groin, spread lightning strikes through his limbs, and heaved the very earth beneath him! 

_Holy Moon!  What is that?!  WHAT IS SHE DOING TO ME?!_

Damn him if he knew, but he would surely _die_ if she stopped!

As if they had a will of their own, Bog’s hips rocked in time with her glorious fingers, silently begging her to keep at it.  His voice was far more forthcoming, snarling and simpering in awe, as he savagely clawed at the soil. 

Approvingly, Marianne hummed around him, and in response to his pleas, she hollowed her cheeks and _drastically_ increased her pace along with grasping what she couldn’t fit in her mouth with her free hand to furiously jerk him off.  Her fingers _pounded_ Bog’s arsehole, deliciously assaulting that mysterious bit of flesh inside, and all but _blinding_ him with perverted elation!

 _I’m dying!  Ah fuck, yes!  She’s killing me!  MARIANNE!!!_  

Then it hit him, like a veritable rockslide.  His entire body seized up and shattered as he climaxed with a thunderous shout.  Wave after wave of bliss coursed over him, with Marianne staunchly at the helm, swallowing every drop of his essence and continuing to fondle him until he just couldn’t stand it another moment and involuntarily recoiled from the over-stimulation.

Thankfully, she withdrew and gave him a minute or two to recover.  That is, if one _could_ in fact, recover from what she had just done.  He had never _ever_ cum so hard before!    How did she know to _do_ that?! 

It didn’t matter.  Bog felt as if he’d gone through a cyclone.  He was physically drained and inert, allowing his inner goblin to stir the embers of the situation.

 _“……Love….love mate……”_ He croaked, barely aware that he was speaking.

His reward was Marianne nuzzling the corner of his lips ( _When had she turned around?_ ) with an answering purr; a tender prelude before his final ruin: 

_“…Love……mate…”_

And she impaled herself on him.

The sensation was akin to a punch in the stomach; Bog hadn’t seen it coming and it stole his breath completely.  He lurched up in surprise, mouth open in a silent scream for a beat before flopping uselessly to the ground again and just lying there like a lifeless doll as she took him. 

 _Dangerous._   His fevered brain whispered over and over, but if you were on fire, you didn’t refuse water, even if it was _boiling_.  How he had _dreamed_ of this with her.  _Starved_ for it.  Now at last, his goddess had come home and conquered him again, and she was _relentless_!  

Up, down…

In, out…

It was amazing how such a simple act could render such insanity as well as be the crux for life itself.  

_Exactly!  Life itself!_

_…Yes…_

_No!  Ye must stop her!_

_…Why?  It’s incredible!  I want to die this way…_

_A child!_

_…What child?..._

_TELL HER, YE GREAT FOOL!_

Like a snapped string on a lyre, the only pathetic scrap of Bog’s rationale and strength remaining forced him to flinch and grab Marianne’s legs in warning.

“M-M-Marianne!”  He stammered, hardly able to concentrate from the demanding buck of her hips.  “Wait!  I…ah…I-I have to…f-f-fuck…to tell ye s-somethin’!  We…we can’t do this!  Ngh! Y-ye…ye could get…shit…… _pregnant_!”

When Marianne unexpectedly paused and blinked at Bog in astonishment, he, like an _nitwit_ , actually thought he’d gotten through to her…

...

 …until she threw her head back and unleashed the loudest and most _wanton_ of moans Bog had ever heard her make!

“Oh, yes!  Yes!   _Fuck_  me, Bog!”  Marianne whined, resuming her primal dance with even _more_ vigor, and placing a hand on her lower belly, rubbing over it, as if _willing_ a child there.  “Make me pregnant!   _Breed_ me!  I want our baby!  I _want_ it!   _......Mine...my mate......MINE..._ "

Bog was frozen, thunderstruck, and as his mother had so eloquently put it: _doomed_.  There went his last hope up in smoke.  She knew, but she didn’t care, or she _couldn’t_ care!  And he could do nothing!  Her crazed, dominant thrusting had risen to an almost painfully unhinged level, as if she was trying to draw his very soul out of his shaft.  She was erasing everything but rapturous acceptance.   

_Fuck, I...I jus' can't stop her!  It feels too good!  More, Marianne!  More!  Please!_

Her cleavage swayed in front of his drunken face, he’d forgotten she was wearing her dress still.  He wanted to rip the fabric apart and see her luscious breasts; _devour_ them, but he lacked the strength to lift his feeble arms from Marianne’s thighs.  He couldn’t even heave her off of him as a radical preventative measure!

He was so _pitiful_.

Helpless, his eyes trailed down to where they were connected.  There wasn’t anything to see other than bunched fabric, but the knowledge of what she was _doing_ to him underneath that skirt just made it all the more _erotic_ , and he _growled_ in delight.

“Look at me!”

Bog gasped as Marianne abruptly grabbed his chin and jerked his head up so he could meet her fiery gaze.  

“You  _look_  at  _me_.”  She ordered like the warrior queen she was.  “I wanna fucking  _see_  your eyes when I make you  _cum_!  Do you hear me, Bog?”

He choked on air in reply as she then slammed her near entire body weight onto him, propelling them both to their peak. 

“CUM.  RIGHT.  **_NOW_**!!!”

Poor Bog.  He was seduced, powerless, and overwhelmed with the inferno and rhapsody of her brutal fucking, he had no choice but to obey her command as she clenched her muscles around him. 

_Forgive me, Marianne.  Forgive me!_

With a roar so thunderous and drawn out it stung his throat, Bog splintered like a chopped tree and crashed into an oblivion of euphoria that shook the sky and ripped his spirit to shreds of satisfaction, emptying every stream of his seed into her yearning womb. 

Spent, blank, shivering, and thoroughly annihilated in every way possible, Bog couldn’t help but surrender to the quicksand of exhaustion, and as he sensed Marianne curling against his heaving chest with another triumphant giggle, all went black.   

 


	4. Chapter 4

Though Bog’s slumber was strong enough to keep his body limp and heavy as sap, his brain stayed at least semi-conscious to the world around him.  Never once, did the twittering of the Dark Forest’s morning birds completely fade from his hearing, nor did the scent of fresh soil and greenery from his sharp nostrils. 

However, his mind was blank to everything unrelated to his physical senses.  For all he knew, it might’ve been minutes or hours before he became gradually more aware of his surroundings.  His first coherent thought was that there seemed to be a spider crawling aimlessly across his chest.

_Too small to be…Pip…_

With great effort, Bog’s eyelids dragged themselves open and he looked down.

_Oh…not a spider...that’s a…a hand…_

_…_

_…a fairy hand…_

_…_

_…Marianne’s hand…_

_._

_._

_._

_MARIANNE!_

The realization hit Bog like a slap in the face, and instantly, he snapped to attention.  To his left, a giggle was uttered at his abruptness, and swallowing a sudden, thick lump in his throat, he turned his head.

And there she was.

Like all the mornings they’d shared in those precious few weeks before Winter: perfectly curled against his side as if they were of one flesh, skin glowing, eyes shining, and with a blissful smile on her pouty lips as she nuzzled her head against his shoulder. 

Incredible, to suppose that fate had designed such loveliness to want _him_ of all creatures in the world!

…and he had _betrayed_ her.  She’d _trusted_ him, and he-!

Marianne stretched the sleepiness from her limbs, and hummed with satisfaction before hugging Bog just a little tighter.  Her serene and cheery demeanor made it quite obvious that her Fever was long gone. 

“So,” she grinned, skittering her fingers across his chest again, “miss me much?”

A coat of frost spread beneath Bog’s skin, making him feel tense and exposed.  The shame of what he had done, or more accurately, _failed_ to do, crashed over him like an avalanche.  The walls of the stump seemed to contract.  His breathing grew erratic and he began to shake all over.  He had to escape.   

With probably more force than necessary, Bog immediately tore himself from Marianne’s arms and clambered out of the den.

“Bog?  Bog!  Where are you _going_?”  Marianne shouted after him in confused alarm, but he ignored her calls and ran through the thick grass and bushes.

From the position of the sun and shadows, he could vaguely tell that they’d only been out for maybe an hour or two.  The pain in his wing stalk had been replaced by numbness, preventing him from flying, but he lacked the will regardless.  Already, he could feel the energy in his legs giving way to despair, so when he saw a tiny creek up ahead, it might as well have been a cliff face, for he fell to his knees on the bank in defeat. 

“Bog!  _Bog_!  Hey, wait up!”

The sound of footsteps quickly padding through the dirt approached him from behind. 

“What’s gotten into you?”  Marianne panted, her voice tinged with worry though she chuckled.  “Heh!  Surely, it wasn’t _that_ bad?  I mean, I know we’re outta practice, but…well, _I_ thought it was pretty damn good after three months!”

 _How_ could she _joke_ at a time like this?!  His breath hitched as his head sank into his hands.

All traces of humor vanished the instant Marianne’s saw Bog’s pauldron scales tremble.

“Bog, are you-?  Are you _crying_?”

A quiet sob was her confirming answer. 

Truly concerned now, Marianne rushed to sit next to her lover and wrap her arms around him, soothingly petting and stroking any part of him she could reach.

“Hey.  Hey, hey, hey…”  She murmured, trying to meet his eyes.  “Baby, what is it?  _Tell_ me.”

It took a while for Bog to find his voice, but he managed to soldier through it.  He owed her an apology at the very _least_!

“Oh, Marianne…I’m sorry.  I’m _so_ sorry!”

“Sorry?”  Marianne repeated, clearly puzzled.  “What on earth for?”

“I wasn’t…s-strong enough……I…I couldn’t help it.  _Fuck_ , I know that’s no excuse!  I’m just-!  I’m sorry, Marianne!  I’m _sorry_!”

Bog clawed at his scalp and began sobbing in earnest.  He felt like such a disgusting, self-centered, bastard!  How could he have done this to her?!  How could he have been so weak?!  He loved her so much, but now it was all over.  History had repeated itself; once again, he’d ruined _everything_!  And he was going to lose the one person in all of creation that mattered the most to him!

He was so caught up in the crushing misery of it all, it was a moment before he realized Marianne was shaking him.  _Hard_.

“Bog!  Bog, would you _stop_ it?!”

When he faced his mate, he winced as he saw her take a deep breath, the way she sometimes did to reign in her temper, and raise her palms in a neutral gesture. 

“Okay, you are not making _any_ sense at _all_.”  She stated, impatiently.  “Since when do you act like it’s the end of the world after we have great sex?  Since when do you _apologize_ for great sex?  Bog, I basically just found out that you _literally_ can’t resist me.  Do you _really_ think I can be _mad_ at you about that?”

A huff of laughter escaped her lips.

“Hate to break it to you, babe, but I’ve got _just_ a _bit_ too much feminine pride.”

Bog sighed heavily.  It was obvious she didn’t understand what was troubling him, and that only made him feel worse.

“Marianne…early this mornin’, I……I found out th-that…that we actually… _might_ be able to…to conceive.  I tried…I _tried_ to tell ye, but I…I…”

“Oh... _that_.”

_Yes… **that**._

Bog hung his head again and braced for Marianne’s wrath and parting words, but they never came.  Instead, she did what she always did best:

She _surprised_ him. 

“Bog, I understood what you told me.”

!!!

If his subjects could see him then, they’d be _scrambling_ to paint a picture of their king’s stupid, boggle-eyed, slack-jawed expression. 

_She…?  She knew?  She knew, and yet she still…she still…_

Well, of _course_ she still did it!  She couldn’t help herself either!  Except in _her_ case, it was simply biological!  Her _Fever_ made her lose control, but _he’d_ been in possession of all _his_ faculties!  _He_ was the only one to blame!  And he was no better than that blonde, idiot, ex of hers! 

“But, I still took advantage of-!”     

Her fingers slapped over his lips, cutting him off.

“Don’t you _dare_ say that!”  She growled, conviction burning in her eyes.  “I know you too well, and if you even _think_ of comparing yourself to _him_ , I’ll punch the scales off of you!  Now, let me _finish_!”

Once he nodded his compliance, she dropped her hand to entwine with his own.  A short pause ensued, and Bog marveled at her insight as well as her unwavering faith in him, however undeserved. 

“I _understood_ what you told me.” Marianne continued. “Didn’t you hear what I, eh…said _back_?”

Blood rushed to Bog’s ears.  How could he forget?

“That was jus’ the Fever!”  He argued.  “Ye didn’t know what ye were sayin’!” 

“‘Oh, yes, yes, fuck me, Bog, make me pregnant, breedme, I want our baby, I want it.’”  Marianne suddenly and _impassively_ repeated.

The blush spread to Bog’s entire face at that, and his scales twitched anxiously. 

“If I _didn’t know what I was saying_ , how come I can remember and repeat it all _verbatim_?”

Bog didn’t have an answer for her, so he just chewed his lip. 

“I understood you, Bog…” Marianne said, brushing his hand with her thumb, “and I was _happy_.  Not to be funny, but _insanely_ so.  _That_ , combined with my Fever, well…it’s no _wonder_ I didn’t stop.”

“Ye were…h-happy?”  Bog parroted.

“Of _course_ I was, Bog!”  His mate exclaimed, beaming brighter than the moon.  “To know that there might be even the _slightest_ chance we could have a baby of our _own_?  You can’t _imagine_ how happy that made me feel!”

A silence befell the couple and Marianne’s beam faltered as the seconds passed with Bog just staring wordlessly at her.

“Does it…make _you_ happy, Bog?”

Bog snapped out of his state at the question, and gathered her into his arms in a fierce embrace. 

“Yes, Marianne, _yes_!  It makes me happier than I’ve ever been in my whole _life_!  Please, dorn’t _ever_ doubt that.”

“So then, why are you freaking out?”

“Because we’re not _ready_!”  Bog emphasized, pulling back to see her eyes.  “We _talked_ about it; we _agreed_!  We’re not ready to be _parents_!  But now…what if I’ve impregnated ye?  I knew better, but I _still_ let this happen!  _That’s_ why I’m upset!  This is _all_ my _fault_!”

Enraged at himself, Bog punched the ground and spewed a string of harsh curses.

“Bog, _Bog_!”  Marianne pleaded before he could get too riled up.  “Bog, shh, _shh_!  Listen to me!  _Listen_!”

Grabbing at his arms to still him, she waited until he calmed.

“Bog, you _didn’t_ do _anything_ wrong.  You didn’t know; _we_ didn’t know.  It’s _nobody’s_ fault!”

“But, I-!”

“No, _no_!  Bog, _look_ at me.”

Only when Bog eventually met her stern gaze, did she stroke his cheek.

“I am _fine_ , Bog.  Do you hear me?  I’m _fine_!  I am not mad at you, I’m not mad at _all_.  I _promise_!”

Overwhelmed, Bog’s head drooped to Marianne’s shoulder and she carded her fingers over his scales for the next few moments as he took several deep, shuddering breaths.  

“What are we gonna do?”  He asked when he was finally able to sit up.

“Well, now that you’re feeling somewhat more _rational_ ,” Marianne chuckled with a slightly playful nudge, “I think the best thing to do first, would be to find Plum.  We still don’t really know anything for sure, yet, but I’m guessing she’ll be our best source of information.”

“And if ye’ve conceived?”

Marianne’s grin faded and she pursed her lips in serious thought.  Bog held his breath until she seemed to come to a decision.

“Then I’ll be the happiest and luckiest damn mother in the world.”

Bog gaped at her, shock flooding his entire system.

“Ye…yer _serious_?”

“Yeah.”  His mate nodded.  “I mean, it’ll still be unplanned and inconvenient, but…we’ll manage.  After all, when is anyone totally, 100% ready to be a parent?  But we’re a team; the _best_ team.  And we have our family, our friends, and two _whole_ kingdoms to help us.  We’ll be okay.”

If Bog had been standing, he would’ve collapsed at her words.  A warm, encompassing joy was spreading from his chest.  He’d been so afraid; afraid of her hatred and rejection, and now, to learn that not only did she still love him and not hold him responsible in any way, but would _accept_ their child with open arms if she did in fact become pregnant from this incident…

It…it…

It was just too gracious to fathom!  

Seeing the range of speechless emotions on Bog’s face, Marianne carefully reached out and placed his hand over her flat stomach.

“Bog, no matter when or _how_ it comes…I will _always_ want _our_ baby.  _Always_.”

The tears returned to the goblin king’s eyes, this time, for a vastly better reason, and he pressed his forehead to hers. 

“Me too, Tough Girl,” he whispered, “me too, _always_.”

“I love you.”

“I love ye, too.”

The couple sat there holding each other for what could’ve been an eternity.  Around them, the Dark Forest grew brighter.  Flowers unfurled, animals chirped and squeaked; everything was blooming with life for the new Spring.

At one point, Marianne drew away from Bog just enough for them to share a short, gentle kiss.

“How did I live a _day_ before _you_?”  Bog murmured, nuzzling her hair.

“Hmm, that’s sweet,” Marianne replied, “but we both know if you’d been _that_ feeble, I never would’ve fallen for you.”

“True.”

They laughed and enjoyed the late morning for a while longer before Bog spoke again.

“There’s no tellin’ how long it’ll take to find Plum.  What can we do to be, er… _safe_ in the meantime?”

The princess snickered and patted his thigh.

“Tomorrow, I can send an envoy back to the southlands to collect supplies.  There’s these indigenous flowers that can help prevent-” 

“Yeah, I know…….S-Sunny told me about ‘em.”

“ _Sunny_?”  Marianne’s brow furrowed.   “What do you mean he told you?”

Bog flushed and coughed, avoiding her eye.

“He was…the only person I could go to fer… _info_ on such short notice.  Let’s not dwell on it, okay?”

Marianne snorted, trying miserably to reign in her giggles. 

“Oh, _man_!  That must’ve been _brutal_!”

“Shut up.”

“I know Dawn said she wanted you guys to bond,” Marianne squealed, “but I’m pretty sure _that’s_ not what she meant!  Ha-ha-ha!”

“Alright, alright,” Bog half-heartedly grumbled, tickling her ribs in retaliation.  “Enough, ye little fruit bat.  How soon can the envoy bring back those flowers?”

“They can make the trip in three days.”

“Three days.”  Bog acknowledged with a determined sigh.  “That’s not so bad.  We jus’ have to keep our hands off each other ‘til then.”

At that, Marianne paused, but eventually flashed her mate a wicked smirk as she leaned towards him.

“Ooooh, now I didn’t say _that_.” 

* * *

_Epilogue_

True to her word, Marianne’s fairy envoy had taken exactly three days to fetch the special, contraceptive flowers.  As soon as they arrived, the princess had immediately boiled the blossoms in a cup of lemon tea, and was set for the season.  Up to that point, she and Bog had been keeping things pretty tame with only foreplay, they were both too pent up from three months apart to completely abstain, but for their collective peace of mind, they decided to hold off a little longer on mating in full, just until they found Plum and got the proper reassurance.

Which led them to today.

Almost a full week had passed before the eccentric spirit was tracked down and conducted to the goblin castle, where the royal couple met her in the hospital wing, with Griselda pacing impatiently outside the door. 

Marianne was sitting on the examination table, with Bog beside her, holding her hand, while Sugar Plum was emitting a twinkling and bluish cloud of magic from her palms, right over the princess’s belly.  

The tension in the air was thick as mud, and there was no other sound in the room…

…well, _besides_ Plum’s persistent and _irritating_ hum of “Baby Face”.  Was she _trying_ to drive them nuts?!

Probably.

“Mmm…well, that’s it!”  Plum cheerfully announced, so suddenly it made Bog and Marianne flinch in unison.

“Yes?”  The king asked urgently, once he’d recovered, and both he and his mate held their breaths. 

“I don’t sense anything.”

A beat.

“…Y-y-you mean,” Marianne stammered, touching her stomach, “I’m not…I’m not…?”

“Nope!  Not this time.”  Plum shrugged.  “There’s nothing in there but internal organs and whatever you had for breakfast.”

.

.

.

Time might as well have stopped altogether at the confirmation.  The aura of anxiety had been replaced with something rather cold and heavy.  Poor Bog was so confused.  He expected to feel more relieved.  After all, this was what they’d wanted to hear.  They weren’t _ready_ to have children! 

And yet…

Why did the news… _hurt_?

He knew he shouldn’t feel that way.  It was ridiculous and selfish, and he was ashamed.

But then he noticed Marianne.

Her head was bowed, watching the loose fist over her empty womb with a vacant gaze, and she was silent, but her lips were pulled into a frown.

She honestly looked…

_Sad._

“…Are ye……disappointed?”

Marianne seemed to snap out of her thoughts at his voice, and flashed Bog a shaky smile.

“Wh-…no.  No…I……I mean…I-I don’t know.  I guess…it was just different before, when we were so sure that we… _couldn’t_ , but now……with even the _smallest_ chance, I…I know it’s stupid, but……I…I just…just…”

Her face pinched, and Bog’s heart cracked when, without further warning, her honey brown eyes instantly brimmed with tears. 

“I’m sorry!”  She whispered brokenly and cupped her cheeks as she began quietly sobbing.  

“Oh, Marianne!  Shh, shh!”  Bog soothed, quickly gathering her into his arms and stroking her hair.  “It’s okay, Tough Girl.  It’s okay.”

“What’s with all this boo-hooing?”  Plum asked, cocking her head at the pair.  “I said you _weren’t_ pregnant.”

“Do ye mind?!”  Bog growled as Marianne cried harder.

“Why, not at all!  Thanks for asking!  Seriously though, what’s wrong with you two?  You’re in the clear!  I thought you’d be thrilled!”

“Be quiet, ye damn tadpole!  Yer tryin’ my patience!”

“ _Really_?”  Plum planted her hands on her hips.  “Gee, well after _twenty_ years in _prison_ , I don’t mind if I do.  You should try _mine_ sometime!”

Bog bit back a snarl and decided to just ignore her.  He did _not_ want to shout in front of Marianne right now.  Instead, he just focused on his mate, rocking her gently and letting her bury her head in his shoulder. 

“I know it doesn’t m-make sense!”  Marianne whimpered.  “But…what if it’s all f-f-for nothing?  I mean, I……I’d rather just _know_ it’s _impossible_ than be _tortured_ by…by a...... _false hope_!”

“False hope?!”  Plum exclaimed.  “What on earth are you on about?”

Bog glared at the spirit, but she was once again, immune to his ire. 

“Come on now, your highness,” she curtly said to Marianne, “that’s quite enough of your silly blubbering!  Pull yourself together!  You’re making a big fuss over _nothing_!”

Marianne finally joined her husband in his glare, but hers lacked its usual pluck thanks to her sniffling. 

Plum rolled her eyes.

“Ugh, _mortals_!  Always so quick to say die!”

“ _Plum_ …”  Bog warned.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake!  _Here_!” 

With a swiftness that startled both goblin and fairy, Plum zipped around the couple positioning them so that they were facing each other and joined by one hand with their fingers interlocked.  

“When you’re in love, it’s so easy to see _past_ the outside, isn’t it?  It’s necessary!”  Plum explained.  “But tell me, have either of you ever done the exact _opposite_?  Even _once_?  Look at yourselves!  Look at how much you actually have in common _physically_ , despite being two separate species!  But even if that _wasn’t_ the case, just because _one_ time didn’t take, doesn’t automatically mean it _never_ will!  That’s common knowledge!  That’s nature!  That’s why sex is so _good_ ; so you’ll keep at it until you get the results you want!”

Neither Bog nor Marianne made so much as a chuckle at Plum’s attempted humor, they just gawked at each other, slowly and mentally cataloguing every single similarity shared between their different…or perhaps…… _not_ so different bodies.  The eyes, the build, the wings, the number of digits, the list went on.

_Fascinating._

As the paused dragged, eventually Plum crossed her arms with a sigh.

“If you want my deep, _honest_ opinion, it’s this: I’m someone who has lived for many, _many_ lifetimes, and as such, I’ve seen a _LOT_ of strange, unimaginable things.  So, by comparison, I would be truly and utterly _shocked_ if a child _didn’t_ come from this union.”

A soft gasp left Marianne’s throat and, in tandem with Bog, she stared at Plum, daring to wish for that very miracle.    

“Don't misunderstand me, I’m not saying it’ll be easy by any means!”  Plum clarified, backing away a few inches.  “Based on what happened to Griselda and the late Vinca, it’s likely it’ll take a _ton_ of patience, and that you won’t be able to successfully conceive a _second_ time, but that’s all conjecture!  The _important_ thing is that there’s hope!  _Real_ hope!  You just have to _try_ , when you’re _ready_ ; and try as _hard_ as you can.  Alright?”  

After several long and pensive moments, Marianne squeezed Bog’s hand and they both nodded at the spirit. 

“There you go!”  Plum beamed.  “All better?”

“Yeah…much better.  Thanks, Plum.”  Marianne said with a tiny grin.

“Anytime, darlings!  Now, I’m off to break the news to my bestie!”  Plum declared, already drifting towards the door.  “I’m sure she’ll be kinda bummed about not being a grandma quite yet, so I’ll have to cheer her up.  Plus, I’m guessing you’ll want some privacy for a while.  But what to do?  Hmm, perhaps a trip to the spa?  A manicure?  Oh, I got it!  _Tavern_ hopping!  Yay, girl’s niiiiiiiiiiight!  Toodle-loo!”

And with that, the Sugar Plum Fairy made her exit, prompting a yelp from Griselda, followed by the women’s muffled arguing all the way down the hall until they at last faded from earshot. 

A fresh silence ensued, and Marianne mindlessly played with Bog’s hand, occasionally glancing up at him with a shy smirk.  Neither spoke until Bog cracked his neck.

“So…”

“So…”  Marianne repeated.

“What’s the plan?”

“You’re leaving it up to me?”

“Considerin’ how _you’d_ be the one that carries an’ delivers, I think that’d be the wisest choice.  _You_ should have the first say in our next step.  If I dorn’t like it, we’ll discuss an’ negotiate.  Sound fair?”

“…Um, sure.”  Marianne replied, blushing at his being such a gentleman, “I guess that’s fair.  Well……to tell you the truth, Bog…when I originally said I wasn’t ready to have kids…that was mostly because I honestly believed we _couldn’t_ have any of our own, so I just wanted time to…get over that.  Like five years, at least.   But…with what we know _now_ ……only if you’re okay with it…m-maybe……we could start really trying in…two years?”

Bog’s eyes were tender and he sifted his claws through her silky hair. 

“How about three?”

“Three?”

“As much as I _desperately_ want our little prince or princess,” Bog admitted as the tips of his ears turned pink, “I’d still like to have ye all to myself fer jus’ a wee bit longer.”

Marianne laughed in understanding, and pulled him closer to stand between her knees. 

“Ditto; three years it is then.”

Lifting her hand, Bog sealed the deal with a kiss to her knuckles, and an internal prayer for their most treasured future dream to come true one day in another beautiful Spring.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts, comments, kudos, are the best fuel for my writing brain! <3<3<3
> 
> ALSO, VERY IMPORTANT!!! PLEASE READ: I know a couple of you guys suggested ideas for this sequel that I agreed to use, but it's been so long I've forgotten names, so please let me know and I will credit you right away!!!


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